The Jane Austen Society(44)

Jack started to stir in bed, and Mimi watched as, half-asleep, his hand patted the empty space next to him where she had earlier been. Eventually his arm started to flail about until he finally opened his eyes and saw her sitting by the balcony.

“Trying to make your escape?” He smiled, rubbing his eyes and jaw as he sat up in bed.

She smiled back, then came over, and he started to tug at the belt of her pink silk robe. “Not so fast there, mister. You have a call soon—it’s four P.M. L.A. time, remember?”

He yawned and sat up, and she affectionately patted down the shock of sandy-brown hair that was several shades lighter than his beard stubble. He had such a healthy Californian colour to him, for an East Coast businessman; next to the City solicitors he had been meeting with in London all week, he practically glowed.

“Fine, but after that we’re going back to bed—early start in the morning.”

“Where are you taking me now?” She went and picked up the phone with its base from the desk nearby and carried it over into bed with her, then lay down next to his warm, lean body.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Is it far? Will I be blindfolded?”

“Do you want to be?” he teased.

“I don’t ever want what you think I want, which is usually what you want,” she teased back. “So, it will never work.”

“That’s what they always say, until it does.”

Starting to pull at her robe again, he was kissing her neck when the phone rang.

“Don’t go anywhere, just lie here, with me.” He picked up the receiver and held his hand over the mouthpiece. “I’ll sell at a loss, and then we can pick up where we left off.”

“Oh, Jack, don’t go getting all noble on my account.” She curled up against him and closed her eyes, wondering where he would be taking her next.

Because she had only been here once before, and by train from the opposite direction, she did not at first recognize the surrounding vistas. They approached the village by driving south from outer London and then directly west from Kent, stopping along the way at Hever Castle, where Anne Boleyn had spent a dreamy girlhood full of Tudor splendour and scheming. Mimi thought the Astor addition and gardens beautiful, but the story of the young woman who had seduced King Henry VIII had always left her cold. She had even turned down the role a few years ago, when she was still young enough to play the ingénue. Now in her mid-thirties and free of her contract with the biggest movie studio in the world, she could see only a limited number of good years left in terms of roles. This was one reason why the idea of a summer escape in Hampshire had been so appealing. Perhaps she would even go back on the stage, an idea that Jack found ludicrous.

“I wouldn’t be doing it for the money,” she explained, as their rented 1939 Aston Martin hugged the hedgerows whipping past.

“There’s no such thing,” he scoffed from behind the wheel. “There’s no such thing as not doing it for the money. It just means it’s not worth much to anyone.”

“It’d be worth something to me. You and I both know the roles have been drying up of late. I’m worried Monte is out there blackballing me, what with the few lousy scripts I’ve been getting.”

“He wouldn’t dare—he knows we have too much on him.”

Mimi shook her head. “I don’t think that worries him one little bit.”

Jack reached over with his left hand and patted her thigh. “Well, Sense and Sensibility will change all that, don’t you worry.”

“Yeah, but we’re still only in pre-production—anything could happen. God help me if any grey hairs start showing up between now and then. At least on the stage I can age gracefully. And besides, I don’t know how healthy it is to leave all the dreams of one’s youth behind.”

He looked over at her quickly. “What else have you left behind? Certainly not your scruples—I can’t get you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“That’s not necessarily due to scruples, Jack,” she teased. “Unless your goal is to corrupt me. Is it?”

“Not at all. In fact”—he yanked the leather-covered steering wheel to the left as they passed an intersection of three long white arrow-shaped signs—“in fact I think you’ve corrupted me. Look how far I’ve strayed from my regular course because of you. Producing Regency films, buying overpriced necklaces at auction that you are never going to wear, moving to the rolling hills of merry old England.”

She laughed out loud. “You do have a point. But knowing you, you must be getting something out of it.”

He looked over at her again. For the first time in his life, Jack Leonard was with a beautiful woman and it was her character he most wanted to seduce. He wanted Mimi Harrison to love him despite every voice of reason in her head, just like a character out of her beloved Jane Austen. Mimi mentioned often a Henry Crawford from Austen’s books, but of all the volumes on her bookshelves Mansfield Park was the thickest, and even Mimi couldn’t sell the plot. A bunch of young people half-related to each other putting on a play so that they can make out with all the people they are not supposed to, was the best she could do. Even for Jack, that would not be enough to get him to read an actual book. Which was too bad, because contained within the pages of Mansfield Park was the playbook for making a good woman fall for a cad.